Can we see some protective Gladio after finding out Iris is going on her first hunt?
“She’s what?” he bellowed, striding forward and picking the poor, unsuspecting hunter up by his collar.
The man, arms riddled with scars and tattoos, suddenly looked very small beside Gladio.
“Where’s she going? Who’s going with her? How long is she going to be there?”
“I… I’ll give you the coordinates, Lord Amicitia,” he stammered, dangling from the end of his arm. “But she’s out of cell range…”
“Don’t Lord Amicitia me,” he growled.
Gladio was a menace at the hunter’s HQ for four more days until Iris’ battered pickup creaked and groaned into the yard.
He was out of there like a shot. “Iris!” he yelled.
She climbed out of the cab, one arm bandaged, but otherwise unharmed, and rolled her eyes. “Gladdy? What are you doing here?”
“Shitting bricks about you,” he said, bundling her up in his arms.
“Gladdy, I’m twenty two.”
“You’re still my kid sister.”
As a thank you for reaching 150 followers (though I’m now somehow at over 300), I’m writing 150 word drabbles. Send me a person or a pairing plus a word or a sentence, and I’ll write you a 150 word drabble (or headcanon) in return! (note, drabble requests will close on Friday 23rd June)